Chapter Fifteen: A Chance Encounter

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The Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple was originally established during the previous dynasty. After suffering the ravages of war, it collapsed several times and was rebuilt repeatedly, resulting in the magnificent and solemn grandeur it boasts today.

The Buddhas embody compassion, guiding and enlightening the faithful.

Though nestled deep within the mountains, where paths are treacherous, the temple enjoys a thriving incense offering daily. On major festivals, crowds surge so densely that visitors must queue and enter the temple in batches.

The mountain air was chilly at dawn. Inside the main hall of the temple, a serene stillness prevailed. Empress Dowager Wen knelt before the Buddha statue, her expression reverent and austere. Her eyelids were lowered, leaving it unclear whether she was chanting sutras, contemplating strategies, or simply meditating.

Shaoyin entered the hall carrying a cloak and gently draped it over the Empress Dowager’s shoulders.

“Your Majesty, Yu Zhong has sent word—His Majesty has taken only a single guard unit, traveling light, and has already entered the mountains,” Shaoyin whispered softly.

The Empress Dowager suddenly opened her eyes wide, a flash of surprise crossing her well-preserved face. “His Majesty has come to his senses so quickly?”

Shaoyin lowered her voice: “Your Majesty’s intentions have always been for His Majesty’s good, your concern is clear. How could he not understand your earnest care? Naturally, he must have seen reason.”

“Let us hope His Majesty can appreciate this old woman’s intentions,” the Empress Dowager’s expression shifted subtly. She grasped Shaoyin’s hand, slowly rising to her feet, then gazed out at the tranquil temple grounds. “When His Majesty approaches the mountain gate, I shall go out to greet him.”

Hearing this, Shaoyin quietly acknowledged her, feeling a secret relief.

There is, of course, only one emperor, but not just one Empress Dowager—there is the senior Empress Dowager Wen, the junior Empress Dowager Yang, and another...

Shaoyin silently shook her head, banishing unwarranted thoughts from her mind.

As long as the Empress Dowager Wen and His Majesty reconciled, no longer locked in this stalemate, life in the Palace of Wan Hua would be far more bearable.

“I’ve heard the incense offerings at Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple are very prosperous, but why is the mountain so deserted today?” Li Xubai sat down on a roadside stone, panting from exhaustion.

He and Song Shiyu had climbed through the night, finally spotting the temple gate from afar. His legs, aching and heavy as if filled with lead, could no longer bear him, and he dragged himself to rest by the roadside.

Song Shiyu was equally fatigued.

In her previous life, she had been a martial artist, so this stretch of mountain path would have been nothing. But now, inhabiting the frail body of Li family’s eldest sister-in-law, she was simply too weak to carry herself.

She settled on a stone beside Li Xubai and massaged her legs. “The temple houses the Empress Dowager and high officials from Bianliang City. Though Qishan is not officially closed, no local would dare enter recklessly. If they come too close to Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple and offend someone they cannot afford to, their entire family would suffer.”

Only then did Li Xubai recall his surroundings.

In this highly stratified society, such a scenario Song Shiyu described was entirely possible.

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He ignored the weakness in his legs and back and sprang to his feet. “Then let’s move quickly; this isn’t a place to linger.”

Song Shiyu chuckled softly, about to rise when her expression suddenly changed. “Don’t speak. Someone’s coming. Quick, hide!”

Li Xubai reacted swiftly, leaping onto a nearby tree.

Song Shiyu had chosen the same tree and climbed up in a few agile moves.

The broad, lush canopy concealed them completely from view.

“Hey, why are you climbing up here too? Can this tree hold two of us?” Li Xubai whispered.

“Go down and find another tree,” Song Shiyu replied coldly.

“First come, first served, don’t you know?”

“Shut up. Someone’s coming.”

No sooner had Song Shiyu spoken than two sedan chairs approached steadily.

Seated were Gu Shiyan, who had disappeared the day before, and her maid Xiao Jing.

But Gu Shiyan had changed her attire.

Now she wore a light, thin white gauze dress, loosely draped with an embroidered shawl.

Her hair was styled in a disheveled “fallen horse” bun, adorned with a few fragile yellow mountain flowers.

Her face was lightly dusted with powder, pale, her large almond-shaped eyes shimmering faintly.

She appeared delicate and timid, yet captivatingly beautiful, evoking pity and tenderness.

Li Xubai clicked his tongue.

No wonder they say that if you want to wear mourning clothes attractively, Gu Shiyan’s pure white floral guise is an irresistible temptation to any controlling man.

“She’s basically wearing a new face with that outfit, and it actually looks good. But isn’t she cold wearing so little?” Li Xubai murmured.

Song Shiyu’s expression grew complicated, filled with both resentment and anger. “She’s always like that—used to playing the fragile and pitiful role.”

Li Xubai asked pointedly, “You seem to know her well, sister-in-law. You haven’t answered what I asked you last night.”

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Song Shiyu raised her fist fiercely. “Want a punch?”

Li Xubai scoffed disinterestedly. “Since we’ve run into her, I want to go down and ask what she’s up to.”

Song Shiyu grabbed Li Xubai’s arm. “Wait, don’t go down yet.”

Just then, Gu Shiyan stepped down from the sedan chair. Maid Xiao Jing handed four porters twenty taels of silver and a handful of small copper coins. “Here, agreed price. Our miss sees how hard you’ve worked and gave you extra. Buy some sweets for the kids on your way back.”

The porters expressed their deep thanks.

One of them asked, puzzled, “How far is the temple? We’ll leave now. Does the miss intend to go alone the rest of the way?”

Xiao Jing snorted impatiently. “If we say leave, then leave. Why so many questions?”

The others pulled the man along, lifting the sedan chairs down the mountain path.

“Miss, shall we wait here or move further ahead?” Xiao Jing glanced around, her voice lowering without concern for secrecy.

Gu Shiyan surveyed the area for a moment. “If we go further, it’s too close to the temple. The temple must be heavily guarded now. Being too near would risk disturbing people unrelated to our matters. Let’s wait here. They’re traveling light; they should arrive soon.”

“From their tone, it sounds like they’re waiting for someone?” Li Xubai whispered.

Song Shiyu looked into the distance but remained silent.

Who could they be waiting for? At this hour? In this place?

She racked her brain, recalling events from her past life.

What had happened at Ten Thousand Buddhas Temple in late spring that year to cause the Empress Dowager and the Emperor to turn their backs on the Gu family?

Unfortunately, she had been very young then—only five or six years old—and remembered only vague outlines, not the details.

Li Xubai, not receiving an answer from Song Shiyu, muttered to himself: “Yesterday, I heard from Shopkeeper Su that the fire at the Jade Clear Zhaoying Palace was divine wrath, that Heaven was angry. That’s why the Empress Dowager went to the temple to fast and pray, hoping to appease Heaven’s fury. But how could Heaven’s anger be quelled? The Empress Dowager’s fasting and prayers alone wouldn’t suffice. That incident punished many, even killed many. But what else was there? What did it require of His Majesty? I can’t quite recall.”

“Appease divine wrath, require His Majesty to...?” Song Shiyu repeated softly, then suddenly a spark of realization lit her eyes. “Yes, that’s it—the self-accusation edict!” She turned abruptly. “I know who they’re waiting for now!”